Why you don't go to American parties
by starlight1395
Summary: As one of the only female nations, you should expect trouble whenever America's around, but that doesn't stop you from going to one of his parties. There you're swept into a game called 7 minutes in heaven. Each chapter you will be forced into a different scenario. What will happen when romantic France, shy Lovino and angsty Alfred join you in the closet?
1. Intro

**So ya….had a crazy dream last night and decided to write it out! Gonna be interesting…that's for sure!**

** Sadly I do not own Hetalia….**

Intro:

You are one of the only female nations. America has decided (once again) to throw a crazy, spontaneous party and you were invited…20 minutes before it started. Cursing Alfred and his stupidity, you rush to your closet and hope you have something decent to wear. Thankfully, the black cocktail dress you bought was still hung, unworn, in the back.

Somehow, against all odds, the dress slid in with ease. The hem brushed the tops of your knees and the bodice was made of fitted lace. Running back to the bathroom, you quickly throw your hair up in a clip and apply minimal makeup. Within 15 minutes you're ready to go. Grabbing your black heels and matching clutch, you manage to make it to the car without falling and breaking your leg.

You pull up to Alfred's house, or mansion, (either description worked) and saw that everyone was here already. Strapping on your heels, you saunter up to the front doors. You knock politely, hoping someone heard you, when the door was thrown open by the hero himself.

"You made it!" he screeched in your ear, leaving a ringing in its wake. You're thrown into the middle of the room to where the dancing was taking place. You move to the rhythm of whatever song was playing. It was in Japanese, so you didn't know the lyrics. After a while, you go and mingle by the food table.

A buffet was lined up against the wall. All kinds of food from all the nations were proudly represented with a flag stating where it originated from. You snag some food from your own nation and began to chow down when Alfred got everyone's attention.

"Alright duds!" he shouted through the microphone, "We're going to play a little game! Everyone put something in the bag!" he held up a McDonald's bag. One by one, the nations dropped something into the bag, grumbling about what this could possibly be. You started to space out. The last time you participated in one of Alfred's "games" you ended up tied to a chair.

All of a sudden, someone pushes you to the front of the crowd.

"There she is!" the rambunctious nation crooned, "Now we can get started! Pick something from the bag!" as you reach in, very, _very_ bad feeling washes over you.


	2. The Stick

You reach into the bag and pull out a…._stick? _What the….? Alfred looks around for the lucky guy. You start to feel a relief filling your chest. Maybe you won't have to go through with this! But your hopes are crushed when you hear someone shuffle closer. Your heart stops. In front of you stands the always serious nation of Germany.

You blush, but just faintly. Though you'll never admit it, during the last few meetings you began noticing how handsome he is. He puts one hand out and leads the way to the closet behind the grand staircase. You're confused.

"Where are we going?" you whisper to Ludwig. He glances at you with….amusement?

"It's seven minutes in heaven." As if that explains it. A hand shoves you though the open door and you fall into a heap as the door closes, leaving you in darkness. You hear the lock click as you shakily get to your feet. You look around for Germany, but it's so dark you can't even see your own hand in front of your face.

"Germany?" you ask softly, not wanting to disturb the silence. A muffled sound comes from the opposite side of the closet. Feeling embarrassed, you feel your way over to where the noise came from. You find the German standing awkwardly in the corner.

It was dark, so thankfully he couldn't see the blush across your face. You both stand there in silence, not knowing what to do. Finally, he reaches his hand up and cups your face delicately. The rough fabric of his gloves tickled your cheek and you giggled without thinking. He quickly withdrew his hand, as if burned.

"Wait!" you whisper. You can hear him shuffling around. Normally Germany is so serious, never letting his hair down or loosening his tie, but that makes him that much more perfect in your eyes. You hear him turn, and feel warm arms surround you.

"Gott, I can't do this anymore!" he whispers violently into your ear. He places his warm lips upon yours, drawing out the kiss as if it was a landline. But you didn't want it to be soft. Quickly you slipped one hand around his back and the others mussed up his hair as you pulled him in for a deeper kiss. Finally, after what seems hours later, you break apart for a breath.

"I have waited so long to do that," he murmurs into your hair, which has fallen down in the action, "but I was afraid of how you would react. Everyone seems so cautious around me, and this feeling frightens me…" Germany? Afraid? You hold him closer and whisper in his ear.

"Ich l-liebe dich." You try to pronounce the german, but your accent butchers it, so you're afraid that he couldn't understand, but instead he swoops down on you for another kiss. His tongue gently caresses your bottom lip, asking for entrance. Complying readily, he explores your mouth with precision you didn't expect from the solemn solider. You moan into his mouth as he cups your lower back, pulling you closer.

You run your hand through his golden locks, feeling satisfaction as they pulled loose from their usual placement. You carefully, without breaking the kiss, undo his tie and the first three buttons of his shirt. Breaking away, you trail down his next and rested your mouth on the bit of muscle between his shoulder and neck. Slowly, you leave a love mark, showing he is yours and yours alone.

He runs a hand up your back, wanting to undo the zipper, and just as he was about to pull it down, light flooded the small room. Alfred stood with his mouth hanging open. You guessed that you did look strange. Both your faces heat up and he releases you hurriedly. You hastily put your hair back up as he tries to smooth his hair back, but you did a number on it, and it wouldn't stay in place. Not bothering to fix his shirt, he pulls you closer and before exiting the closet, he whispers in your ear.

"_Ich habe Sie für eine lange Zeit aus der Ferne geliebt, aber jetzt bin ich nah genug, um dich zu berühren. "_

He closes the gap andplaces a soft kiss on your open mouth before taking your hand and leading you out of the closet. Someone thumps you on the back in a congratutualary mannor. You turn to see America grinning like an idiot.

„You set this up!" you accuse, but he only smiles more and shrugs. You scan the crowd and see your German by the food table. You quickly walk over to him and slide your hand around his back.

You'll never let him feel afraid again.

**OK...i apologize for the weird quotations nearthe end. I don't know what's going on with my computer. I aslo alpogize for the chapter being so short, but I want to fit in alot of the nations, and I don't have a lot of time what with midterms comming up and all. **

** Review with who you want to see pulled from the bag!**

**Translation:**

**German:**

_Ich habe Sie für eine lange Zeit aus der Ferne geliebt, aber jetzt bin ich nah genug, um dich zu berühren._

I have loved you for a long time from afar, but now I'm close enough to touch you.

_ Ich Liebe dich_

I love you (for thosewho didn't know)

**Again, I used google translate so apologies for incorrect grammer and such!**


	3. The Knob

**Ok this is for Blaubeermuffin, my first reviewer! Remember! Review who you want pulled from the bag!**

You reach into the bag and fell your hand touch something metal and cold. Curious, you pull the object out into the open. In your hand lay the metal knob that goes on water pipes. You turn it over in your hands to see if you can distinguish whose it is. Alfred looks over your shoulder and his face drains of all color. With shaking hands he plucks the knob from your grasp.

He didn't need to announce it, because a large figure blocks the light behind you. Turning at the same time, you come face to face with the hulking northern nation of Russia. That explains America's reaction, you think to yourself. The massive nation started to laugh under his breath.

"kolkolkolkolkol. Just my luck!" you look around, for someone to save you from the scary nation, but everyone was adverting their eyes. You feel your hand being grabbed and you follow it to the closet. As you pass a group of countries, you hear whispered prayers, and suddenly you don't feel so confident. Before the door even closes, you feel a warm arm wrap around your waist. Alfred gives you a tearful look that seems to say good luck. Or goodbye.

The door closes with an ominous click and the light blinks out. You slink over to the wall, fear mixing with curiosity.

"I-ivan?" you stutter, mentally face palming for your weakness. Though the larger nation was intimidating, you have always felt something deep in your chest twinge whenever he was near. You hear a rustling close by and you reached out to it. Your hand connects with something warm and soft. You grab it, thinking it was a coat, and feel a warm hand reach around your abdomen. With a yelp you were yanked into the hulking figure. You inhale the scent of Ivan, feeling safe in his arms. He smelt like snow would, but it was a warm smell, not painful like the actual cold. You feel him tense, and abruptly release you. In your surprise you fall back onto your tailbone, bruising your lower back. A sharp cry slips through your lips before you can bight it back.

"W-what's wrong?!" his voice was so thick with worry you can barley understand his accent. You try to get up, but trip over someone's shoes and fell yourself tumbling again. This time, instead of hitting hard ground, you are enveloped in the same warmth as before. He grunts as your combined weight slams against the wall.

You feel his hand running through your hair, muttering to himself in Russian. You reach up and cup his cheek, only to find warm tears running from his violet eyes. Afraid, you place your other hand on his other cheek.

"What's wrong?" you ask, mirroring his unanswered question from before, "Why are you crying?" frantically, I felt around the back of his head to see if he was injured when you fell. Instead of finding a bump, you find yourself wrapped up in the warmest, kindest kiss you have ever shared with anyone. Not wanting to break away, you deepen the kiss, surprising the Russian.

Finally he breaks away, only to breathe in deeply.

"No! I can't do this! _We_ can't do this!" he pushes you away and you feel his rejection like a sharp knife in your heart. Sitting dazed, you whimper. He continues, "No one wants such a cold nation around them," he says sadly, "They're all afraid of me…and if you start being around me, they'll stop liking you as well. I couldn't do that to you."

You just laugh.

Without waiting for a response, you shove your lips into his. Matching your fire, he pushed you against the wall. You both hear a crack, and you yell in pain. Your shoulder had become dislocated when it hit. You try to kiss him again, but the pain in your shoulder is too intense and he pulls away again. You growl in frustration.

Ivan takes off his scarf and gently wraps it around you to form a makeshift sling. As the sling settles into place, your shoulders pops back to normal and the pain begins to subside. Desperate for his warmth once again, you undo the jacket he's always wearing with one hand and snuggle up against his broad, muscular chest. He holds you close and you finally feel safe.

"YA bol'she ne kholodno. Spasibo, moya lyubov'" he whispers into your ear. Your not sure what it means but you blush regardless. He door flies open and Alfred's face reflects shock. Shock for what, your not sure. It could be the tears tracking down Ivan's cheeks, or the fact the Russian wasn't wearing his scarf, or the fact that you were so close to the colossal nation.

You look the gaping nations one at a time before reaching up to place another kiss on your new lover's lips. You cringe as your shoulder pulls against the sling. As if suddenly remembering, Ivan scoops you up into his arms and rushes you to the nearest hospital. All the way there, the smile never once left your face,

**Haha so for some odd reason, whatever I write tends to end up being angsty…though I try to fix it before posting. Again, Google translator so improper grammar! I also want to say thanks for the reviews! But really…review who you want to be chose, cuz Imma havin some crazy writers block….**

**3 starlight1395 out!**

**Translation:**

**Russian!**

YA bol'she ne kholodno. Spasibo, moya lyubov'

I am no longer cold. Thank you my love.


	4. The Bird

You reach into the bag and your hand brushed something soft. Thinking a nicer nation would put something soft in, you grab that. Out comes a little yellow bird.

_How cute! _You think to yourself. Then you take a closer look. That bird seems awfully familiar.

"Kesesese! Awesome!" a rough voice calls over the crowd. You feel your face drain. Not him. Not that loud mouth, showy _ex-_nation! Not that you mind too much. Lately, many of your dreams have been filled with the white haired, red eyed man. Before your emotions could run to high, Alfred grabs your wrist.

"No. Absolutely not." You look up at him in confusion. What's the point of the game if he won't allow it?

"Come on! It's just seven minutes, right?" he asked innocently. Germany walked over to where America is still holding your wrist. He places a hand on the younger nations shoulder. Something happened between them and your wrist is released.

"Kesesesese thanks West!" He quickly pulls your recently freed arm over to the closet. You can almost feel him smirking when the door was shut and the lock clicked into place. Expecting the ex-nation to try something naughty, you pick up an umbrella. Not that you'd mind too much if he did though….

In the darkness you hear heavy breathing.

"P-prussia?" Silence. Now you're worried. The thunderous nation was never quiet. _Never._ The breathing gets heavier, and its starting to sound strained. You drop the umbrella and get down on your hands and knees, searching for the Prussian. You find him, curled into a ball in the farthest corner. Even without light, you can tell his eyes were wide in fear, red pupils dilated.

You place a hand on his shoulder to get his attention and withdraw quickly. The once mighty nation's shoulders were shaking with fear. You begin to shake as well. What could have possibly happened to make him so afraid?!

You wrap your arms around the shaking nation. He paid you no attention; he just continues to mutter German prayers.

"Nein, nein bitte nicht ihn das tun lassen! " You couldn't understand to much German, but the fear was evident in his voice. You make a soft shooshing sound as you rub his back. Sobs begin to rack his body, and he pulled away from your embrace.

_Is he...claustrophobic? _It would make sense, after all the time he spent with Russia. Despite that, you pull him closer and start to sing a German lullabye your mother made up for you when you were a baby, though she wan't German herself.

_Hush__jetzt Baby__, __weine nicht_.

_Die Sonne wird__nicht ewig verstecken_

_Bald wird die__Nacht__enden wird,__und die Vögel__wieder singen_

Hearing his native launguage calmed Gilbert down some, and he leaned up against you.

„"I'm s-sorry you had to see the a-awesome me like that." He sniffled, but you find that all the more endearing. You stroke his white hair and he heaves a content sigh. Trying your confidence before it flees, you lean in and place a hesitent kiss on his still trembling lips. He instantly recoils, but after a second lenas back in to place another hesident kiss back to you.

You lose youself in his warm kises and soft embraces, but you don't want it to be gentel. You shove your mouth onto his and decide to take initiative. You lick his bototm lip, asking for entrence. You feel his lips curl up and comply. Exploring his mouth proved to be an adventure. You tried to memorize evry curve, every inch of his mouth. Something warm drips onto your cheeks. You break the kiss and look up. His red eyes were spilling over with tears, but glimmering with joy.

„"This is the first time in a while I've been kissed so sweetly." His voice hoarse with emotion. Just then the door flies open and you feel someone pulling me away. Gil is scrubbing his face as if to erase his tears while Alfred was fussing over you.

„"Are you ok? What did he do? Are you hurt?!" his concern was misplaced. You twist out of his grasp and hurried over to the Albino, who was walking away. You snag his wrist and pull him into another deep, but gentle, kiss. All around us gasps of shock, horror, and a few of happiness chorus around you, but you can't hear them. All you can hear are his words, whispered so sweetly in your ear.

„"_Ich werde__nie das Gefühl,__wieder Angst__, __dank dir__, meine Liebe."_

**Yay! Another chapter done! Boy I'm awesome! Sorry if Gilly seems a little OOC but that's the way I always wanted him to be. Oh, and my computer was on the fritz again, and the quitation were coming out on the bottom (confusion!) so that's why their all screwy...lolz. Anyway...REVIEW WHO YOU WANT PULLED NEXT!**

**Translations:**

**German!**

-Nein, nein bitte nicht ihn das tun lassen! " (No, no please don't let him do that!)

-Hush jetzt Baby, weine nicht. (Hush now baby, dont you cry.)

- Die Sonne wird nicht ewig verstecken ( The sun won't hide forever)

- Bald wird die Nacht enden wird, und die Vögel wieder singen (soon the night will end and the birds will sing again.)

*i made this song up by mashing my favorite songs together, then google translated them*

**-** Ich werde nie das Gefühl, wieder Angst, dank dir, meine Liebe. (I will never feel afraid again, thanks to you, my love.)


	5. The Star

You reach your hand into the bag and pull out a familiar shape. In your hands lay a small golden star, about the size of a silver ½ dollar. You giggle when you remember the time a star, quite like this one, got stuck in England's head during a war meeting. Wait….

"Yo! Iggy! Yo Bows! HEY HEY HEY Britain!" Alfred's obnoxious voice rang around the entire room. Said British man was currently being harassed by Francis, but quickly tore away when he heard his name called. As he walked up to America, he notices the star in your hands and understanding dawns in his emerald eyes. Like a gentleman, he bows slightly from the waist and offers you his hand.

You take it, cheeks growing red at how soft and warm it is. He leads you over to the closet, as only a gentleman can, but doesn't let go of your hand. As the door closes, you hear him take a deep breath. All of a sudden, his hand grows clammy. You start to become worried about the Englishman's health, so you reach your free hand over to feel his forehead.

At the contact, he jumps three feet in the air and lets out his breath in one huge release. Now you're really worried.

"England? What's wrong?" your voice holds an edge of panic. Sure he was disagreeable and a terrible cook, but you really care for him. Enough to go to war if needed. A shaky laugh followed your concern, and he replied hastily.

"N-no my d-dear! Perfectly f-fine!" he didn't fool you. You slip your hand out of his and pressed your face close to his. You rest your cheek against his forehead and feel his breathing hitch. One hand cups his cheek, soon followed by the other. Even with the only light coming from the cracks in the door, you can still see the bright sparkle to those mossy green eyes that make your heart pound so hard.

"I-"he started but fumbled his words into silence, as if still trying to figure out what to say. Finally he spoke up again, this time with a little more confidence.

"Has, America…s-said anything? A-about me?" his voice cracked a little, and you're taken aback by his question. You start carefully.

"He talks about your cooking, and your attitude." He let out a breath, seemingly in defeat, but you weren't finished, "but he also says how kind you were as his caretaker and how heroic you were as 'Captain Kirkland'…"You trail off, letting him process what you said.

A hand, a soft, warm hand reached up and grasped your face. Before you can react with even a blush, his lips were brought down on yours. Startled, you pull back and he notices. He quickly backs away, afraid to anger you. Without hesitation, you pull his small frame back into your arms and kiss him again.

When you finally surfaced for air, he asked in a gasping voice.

"Why did you shrink away?"

"I-it was my….first." you felt so pathetic admitting it, but felt a rush to know that _England_ was your first kiss!

"Y-your first?!" He croaked out. You look up and see his face was redder then Romano's when Spain hits on him. You hum in acknowledgment and lean in for another British kiss.

His lips tasted like wine and _French cooking?_ You smile inwardly as he trails his tongue across your bottom lip. You gasp in surprise at the feeling, and he quickly takes advantage of that. He shoves his tongue into your mouth and began to memorize the contours. You moan as you danced, pressed up against one another. Moans and gasps continue to get louder as he gracefully undid your bra strap. You reach down and pinch his butt in retaliation, and you break apart, if only for a moment.

"Arthur, I need to tell you something, while we're still alone," your voice was quiet and breathless; "I've always liked you. Even when you took Canada from France, I supported you and I wanted to be there for you in every battle. England, I lo-" you're cut off by soft lips crushing onto yours; drowsing out whatever you were going to say. You feel something warm trickle onto your face and realize he's crying.

"My dear, you have no idea how long I've waited to tell you this…," his voice got real low, and you lean in to hear him, "I love you." Your heart explodes and you pounce on him, knocking you both to the floor. You straddle the English personification and pin him down with a kiss. Not wanting to be upstaged, he quickly rolls over and pins you down in a similar manner.

Just as he was going to kiss you, the door flies open.

_Click. Click. Click. Click._

Hungary and Japan both had their camera's ready and were soaking up the sight of the normally stick-up-his-ass Brit pinning down the beautiful young nation. A bemused America leaned up against the door frame, waiting for him to flush. Instead of flushing or snapping, he got up, brushed off his pants and walked over to the door.

"Sorry,' he said in a chipper English accent, "Occupied!" and slammed the door in America's face. He walks back to you and you smile.

This was a side of England you could get used to.

**WHOA! It's been awhile, hasn't it? I'd like to thank Blaubeermuffin for the suggestions and tips! Remember….review who you want picked next, and if you have and ideas, you'll probably see them there!**


	6. The Rose

You reach your hand into the bag and feel something sharp. You quickly withdraw your hand to see little beads of blood poking through. Curious, you pull the offending item back out and stared at it. In your hand lay the smallest rose you have ever seen. It's face no larger than a quarter.

All of a sudden you hear a familiar 'honhonhonhon' from behind. Spinning on your heels, you come face to face with none other then the country of love himself. America just stood there with a strange expression, as if he couldn't decide to be amused or disgusted.

"So, amour. Eet's just the two of us?" France asked, wiggling his eyebrows and you blush. Of course you do! How else would you react to the one nation you actually feel something for whispered that into your ear? Without warning, he scoops you up bridal style and jogs over to the closet, not hesitating to run straight in. He doesn't put you down until you both hear the lock click on the other side. _Why is there a lock on a closet anyway?_ You wonder to yourself and France does something on the other side. When he bumps into something and lets out a string of curses in that language you love so much, you begin to panic.

France is the country of _love_. What could he be planning? You feel your cheeks heat up as you imagine that different thing he could do. A hand on your shoulder snaps you out of your, thoughts, and brings you back to reality. A small crack of light made its way through the door, but it was barely enough to make out his golden waves or blue eyes. All of a sudden, you feel arms wrap around your waist, and you lose your breath as he pulls you close, closer then you've ever been to another nation before.

"Ma petite rose, why do you shiver?" a whisper tickles your ear. Not wanting him to know what you had been thinking, you quickly cover up with a lie.

"I-I'm just a little cold…that's all." He seems to buy it, wrapping you even closer in the folds of an embrace. You feel yourself going light headed, and you never want this to end. Then, you start remembering what kind of nation he is. Flirty, flighty, sexy. He's been with thousands of women, and men. He probably doesn't want anything long-term. He never does.

Sighing, you try and pull away, but you find his long, lean arms wrapped firmly around you waist. Frightened, you pull harder. You've heard what he does to girls, and you're afraid. His arms wrap more firmly around your slender hips and pull you into him. Still struggling, you can't even think rationally.

"Pourquoi avez-vous mal?" he askes, an edge of sadness lacing those perfect words. After hearing the sadnessin his wondferful words, you loose the will to fight. What's the point ? He's perfect ! He must have felt you give up the struggle, for he takes one slender hand up to your face and caresses your cheek.

Exepecting the worse, you turn your head to the side. France used the hand still around your waist to hold your other cheek in place and stared deeply into your eyes.

'Please, don't hide your face,' his voice sounded so sad, so full of regret, that you couldn't help but stare back. His eyes reflected a hundred diffrent emotions. Regret, sorrow, hope, lust and _love._ He brings his face down to yours, but so slowly you think your head is going to explode. You dart up and catch his lips before he could got yours.

You can feel him blush, but only makes him cuter, in your eyes. His hands slide back down to your waist, and yours wrap about his strong, thin shoulders. He crashes his lips back into yours and you feel yourself fly away. A tongue carresses your tembling bottom lip and you greedily accept his invite. You never felt happier then you do now, with the Frech personification tasting the crevises of your mouth. Surprisingly, you don't taste any alchahol on his breath.

A tear rolls down your cheek and before. you can stop it, his hand reaches upt o brush it away as you break apart. Without meaning to, another follows the first.

'Shhhhshhhh mi beau, why do eou cry ?' he seems so sad to see you cry. You feel terrible. You're crying for selfish reasons and you didn't want him to know, yet the words spill out.

"I-I l-love you Francis, b-but you're a-always with someone n-new and it h-hurts to think t-that we couldn't have a s-stable relationship." And you promptly burst into tears. He stands there, mouth gaping, in shock. Quickly recovering, he holds you close.

"Why would I ever leave such a beautiful girl?" he wipes another tear from your eyes, "I'll have you know that I haven't been able to have a solid relationship since I met you. It first I though I was loosing my touch, but I realized something. Je t'aime plus que la vie elle-même' and with that, he kisses you so sweelty, so gently, you forgot that he was the 'touch' in the Bad Touch Trio, and fell into the kiss like water for a dying man. For what seemed like a perfect eternity, ha made you moan and gasp with just his lips, and you returned the favor. You may not be experienced like the man pinned against the wall, but you can still make him gasp.

He knocks you back, and pins you in a similar way you had him pinned and leans in for another kiss.

The door flies wide open, and America stands there as if he's expecting you to be pinned to the floor and completey undressed. His eyes widened when he saw that your hair wasn't even ruffled by the perverted frenchman. Before you exit the closet, he grabs your arm and whispers into your ear.

_'Will you come home with me tonight ?' _

You knew this sweet side was only one part of the Francis you loved.

...

**YAY! Another chapter, in the bag! Ok, so I had a request for a sweet France, so I didn't want it to be to, perverted. But I still added a little for the imagination! Next up: It's a surprise! Do you guys have any idea how great it was to wake up to a bunch of reviews?! Review for your favorite and see what happens!**

Translations:

Pourquoi avez-vous mal (Why do you struggle ?)

. Je t'aime plus que la vie elle-même (I love you more than life itself)

Again, google translate.


	7. The Stache

You reach your hand into the fast food bag and touch something hairy. Quickly pulling it out, you discover a fake moustache resting in your palms. Holding it up to America, who was turned around, you call his name. When He turns to you, the stache lines up perfectly under his nose and he has to resist the urge to snort. He called out over the crowd for the owner of said moustache.

"Goddammit tomato Bastard!" Romano's voice carried across the room, and you can hear the desperation lacing his words. The Spaniard holding him down was surprised to hear his Lovi's name called, and let go for the briefest of moments. Quickly, Romano sprinted to were you were standing, grabbed your wrist and dragged you to the closet, not slowing down until the door was firmly locked behind.

As the door closes, you can hear Spain pounding on the door, demanding you release his precious tomato. Trying to calm your heart, you turn to see Romano squatting on the floor, hands covering his face. The fist continues to pound on the door, and you're afraid the flimsy wood will shatter under the angry nation's strength. You bend down next to him and hear the poor thing sobbing. Your heart clenches at the pitiful sounds coming from the Southern half of Italy. He was always loud and rude and pushed people away from him, but you couldn't help but fall in love with the uncouth man.

You wrap your arms around the shaking shoulders and stroke his hair.

"Shhhshhhshhh…" but instead of calming down, his sobs grew louder and more out of control.

"I-I d-don't…" his voice was shattered and you can barley understand what he is saying. You find your courage, lift up his face and hope for the best. Placing your lips on his, his cries silenced instantly. Instead of pulling away and slapping you, like you excepted from the loud nation, he leaned in closer and drunk up the kiss like a man trying to drown his sorrows. A hand inches around your waist, while the other moves up to release your hair from its clip and run his fingers through your long locks. His hands work wonders, moving up and down your back and through your hair.

Your hands explore his surprisingly muscular chest, undoing the buttons on his dress shirt. You feel him moan as you nip his bottom lip, and in retaliation he licks the side of your neck. A shudder runs through you. He breaks away for but a brief moment before diving back in for another kiss. You feel his tongue taste your bottom lip and you comply readily, moaning yourself as you feel him moving around in your mouth.

His hips suddenly buckled against yours and you break the kiss with a heated gasp. You find yourselves sliding to the ground in a kneeling position, much like the one you started in. Panting, you fall into his lap and place your head against his semi-bare chest.

"I don't," his deep voice vibrated through his chest and into yours. Confused, you looked up and him ad see dark chocolate eyes filled with warm emotions, "I don't love Antonio." Your breath hitches and you stare at him. They always acted like a couple in front of the rest of the nations, and it seemed so real.

"But-"you're cut off as he continues what he was saying.

"I might have, at one point, but not anymore. I think I've known this for many years but I haven't been able to come to terms. I act out rashly against everyone because I was afraid of anyone getting close to me. I was afraid if they knew the true me, they would hate me." You hum as you trace the muscles in his chest.

"I don't hate you Lovi." You whisper. You can feel him laugh and the sound makes your heart grow three sizes.

"Beh, voi non avete addomesticato la bestia dentro, il mio amore." You snuggle against his chest and whisper, this time a little louder.

"They thought I was crazy," he looks down at you, confused, "They thought I was crazy for falling in love with such a reckless, rude, loud, wonderful, loving, beatiful man." You laugh and smile as you feel him bend down and pressed his face against your hair. You're not sure how long the two of you were sitting there, but the whole time he was whispering sweet Italian nothings into your hair as you sang lighting in your native language. You honestly hoped this would never end.

"Quick," his voice in the silence startles you, "Pull on my curl." You look at him, again, in confusuion.

"Your..."

"Yes! My curl! Pull it!" You reach up and snag the unruly piece of hain in your hand an give it a great yank just as the door flies open. A gasp comes from the Spaniard at the door, and moan so loud it rattles your chest comes from the man who's lap you were sitting on. His face had instanlty heated up and his panting grew louder. You release his curl and try to stand up, only to find yourself being pulled back down. Spain, still standing in the doorway, made a decision. Taking a step in, he closed the door behind him.

"If I can't have my Lovi to myself, I'm not below sharing!"

...

**This one might seem alittle weird but I wrote it during school, and the request was for a sweet Romano. I'll also include **_**the curl**_** from N. Italy and maybe Canada! Review who you want next! Oh, and for some reason, as soon as I type any forign languages, teh autocorrect turns off so ya, theres a lot os spelling mistakes.**

**Translations:**

**Italian!**

Beh, voi non avete addomesticato la bestia dentro, il mio amore (Well you have tamed teh beast within, my love.)

**Untill next time!**


	8. The Hockey Puck

You reach your hand into the fast food bag and you brush against something round and flat. Without thinking, you pull it out. In your hand lay a small, round plastic object. You can tell it's been well loved due to the dents covering it. _What in the world is this?_ You look over to America and his eyes light up.

"Yo Mattie! YOU'RE TURN!" His voice rand over the busting crowd. Everyone turns around, looking for this mysterious 'Mattie.' You think to yourself_, Why would little Mattie have a block of plastic?_ As the nations surrounding you continue to search, you feel a pang in your chest.

"Why can no one ever remember him?" you whisper wistfully under your breath. You didn't think that anyone could hear you until and equally soft voice answered your question.

"It's because I'm invisible." Canada, aka Mathew, stood before you, awkwardly shuffling from foot to foot. You jump and blush, embarrassed that he heard you. Alfred shoves your hand into Mattie's and pushed you into the closet. You can hear the licked click and America laughing like an idiot, not like that was new. The poor little nation wasn't prepared for the shove and ended up falling. You hear a painful gasp as something connects with the floor.

No matter how invisible he thought he was, you always noticed him. Always made an excuse to get Russia off when he mistook Mattie for a chair, defending him and reminding the others about him. You were crazy for the unknown nation. Crouching down, you rub your hand down his back, trying to see when he hit. Blushing he crawled away.

"w-what are you d-doing?" his meek voice was lulled by the coats, but his fear pieced you deep in the heart. Somehow Kumajiro had followed you in and was pawing at the hem of your skirt, trying to get your attention.

"He likes you." A child-like voice whispers into your ear.

"Wha-?" Your face heats up and your heart starts to beat faster.

"K-kuma! You weren't supposed to tell her!" his sweet, whispered voice caressed by ears as a hint of tears made his words began to wobble. Your heart doesn't stop, but breaks at the sound of his sweet sobs, but the bear wasn't done.

"He cries himself to sleep and calls your name in his dreams." You feel your face surpass red, and turn purple. His sobs grew more desperate, and his soft fist hit Kuma, but it barely did anything other than ruffle the bear's fur.

"This can't be happening!" You had trained yourself to hear his charming voice, but even you had trouble hearing him this time, "They can't know anything about me!" Something reverberated through your mind and you realize something terrible. You crouch down next to him and mentally prayed that he wouldn't answer your question the way you think he is.

"D-do you make yourself invisible on _purpose?" _you hear his sharp intake of breath, confirming your fears, "_Why?_ Why do you hide from the world? Why won't you let anyone close to you?" tears begin to blur your vision. He didn't answer for a couple moments, but when he did, his words were barley a breath against the wind.

"I stay alone so no one can get to now the real me. If they did, they would be disappointed in how weak and pathetic I am." Hot, fat tears rolled down those cheeks you always wanted to caress.

"You're not pathetic. You're so strong, you just don't see it." You reach over and pull him into your arms. Holding the nation, you hum some songs you were taught as a child and rocked back and forward until his sobbing stopped. Not sure how much time you had left before your seven minutes were over, you tilt his head up to yours and place your made-up lips in his quivering ones.

You feel more tears against your cheeks, but they were sweeter. Not wanting to be upstaged, Mattie pushed his tongue into your mouth and you smile inwardly, letting the Canadian take control, something he probably didn't have very often. His kisses were sweet and soft, tasting of maple syrup and _vodka?_ You never saw Mattie to be the type to drink such strong alcohol.

Finally, you end up being the one to break the kiss in order to take a deep breath.

"I love you, you maple-head!"

Before your confidence could fail you again, you decide to test a theory that you and America had been tossing around for a couple of years now. You snag his twirly curl between two nimble fingers and give it a light tug. Instantly, Mattie flushed and moaned. _We were right! Just like the Vargas twins! _You smile again and connect your lips before tugging gently on his curl again. The kiss became more and more heated, but before you could go any father, the door opened wide and America stood there, looking expectantly at his younger twin.

"So it seems we were right!" he said, looking between Mattie's flushed face and your hand still entwined with his curl. You look over and see tears shining in his purple eyes. He leans up and whispers into your ear.

"And I you, my sweet Polar Bear." The tear finally overflowed and you made a promise to yourself.

No more tears of loneliness, of pain. From now on there will only be tears of happiness.

**I had so many requests for a Canada that I dropped everything I was doing to finish this! And I would like to thank Guest for the….**_**interesting…..**_**ideas for the other chapters *creepy chuckle* you guys are going to get a kick out of this! I have about eight nations lined up, but ideas are always welcomed with open arms!**


	9. The Picture

The first thing you touch when you reach into the bag is a small, paper thing. Pulling it out, you realize that it's a picture. Looking closer, you see…. _Are those tentacles? _With a blush already heavy on your face, it was hard for it to get any darker. Then again, when the small Asian man came and stood right in front of you, the idea of spending seven minutes alone with him defied logic, making your face go purple.

"Herro." He held his slender hand out to you, and it shocks you. He's offering contact?! It shocked quite a few others apparently and it didn't get past him. He blushed and pulled his hand back, murmuring an apology.

"Ok you love birds," America's voice made us both jump, "Let's get this thing happening!" He pushes you into the closet and Kiku quickly follows to avoid being touched. The two of you stand awkwardly apart, waiting for the door to close.

You met Kiku during your first World Meeting. The Japanese country was gossiping to the corner with another country with long brown hair and green eyes. They were fussing over a camera, occasionally squealing. Curious, you snuck over and peered over their shoulders. The little screen had a picture of Germany and Italy, and they were….before you could make a sound, you scrambled back to your seat. He introduced himself a few minutes later along with the other nations for your benefit.

"I am Kiku Honda, the nation of Japan." His monotonous voice was oddly soothing, unlike the annoying American of bubble-headed Italian. You watched him for the rest of the meeting. When it was over you had decided to approach him. Reaching a hand out you tried to catch his sleeve, but as soon as you touched, he yelled something in Japanese and ran away. At that moment, strange feelings for the small man began to blossom in your chest.

You are brought back to the present when a slight sound is heard, the sound of a lock clicking into place.

"Kiku? Are you okay?" you don't want the poor man to freak out, so you stay rooted to the spot. After a few moments, his accented voice floats to you from a few feet away.

"I am fine, thank you. It is just a rittle dark, that is arr." You smile at his politeness, and feel a twinge knowing he'll never be anything but towards you. Again, the silence was becoming very, _very_ awkward for you, but any attempts at conversation were instantly shot down by his short answers. It must have been three or four minutes before he said anything that could contribute to a conversation. His question left you confused and concerned.

"Do you know what it's like to be arone? Trury arone?" You feel can't quite pinpoint what this feeling is, but whatever it is, it made it hard to answer at first. When you finally have a clear enough head, you answer as truthfully as you think you can.

"Yes. I think I do know what it's like to be truly alone." You blink and next thing you know the small Asian man in standing in front of you with a smushed up face, like he was thinking. He takes one step closer, then another until you're standing face-to-face. He hesitantly raises his arms and leans in for a hug. Since you didn't expect that (who would?) you fell to the ground, him falling into your lap.

"I'm terribry sorry!" He tries to jump up, but a soft hand on his shoulder keeps him down.

"What's there to be sorry about?" You smile, hoping to calm him down a little. He uncertainly wraps his slender arms back around your waist. You simply sit there, enjoying each other's warmth, inwardly celebrating at this small victory. Before you can dissuade yourself, you ask a question that had been on your, and everyone else's, mind.

"Why are you so afraid of contact?" A simple enough question, you thought, but when you felt his stiffen you realized that there's so much more to it then what meets the eye. You honesty didn't think he would answer, and you readied yourself to apologize when his tentative voice stopped you.

"When I was younger, Korea wourd touch me, and I did not know what to do about it. Now I guess I am afraid of others doing the same." You feel your heart break, and promise yourself to punch Korea real hard next time you saw him.

"You don't have to be afraid anymore. I'll protect you." _Why would you say something so clique?! What if he thinks you're a creeper or something!? _Your internal rant was cut short when he chuckled sweetly.

"That wourd be wonderfur. Thank you so much." He heaves a contented sigh and leans his head onto your chest. You hum in acknowledgment, not wanting to disturbed the peace surrounding you.

The door opened slowly, so as not to freak him out, and America pops his head in the crack. His eyes grow wide a McDoubles as he drinks in the sight of little Japan, snuggling up against your chest. Said Japan quickly stands up and walks out before you could even stand. Confused at his sudden reaction, you stumble out into the brightly lit ball room. Everyone was crowded around him, asking questions. You see Korea sneak around the back of the crowd and weasel his way to his brother. Feeling rage, you push through the crowd to get there first.

But before you could punch his lights out and give his some internal bleeding, Japan put a hand on yours, calling your attention. With everyone watching, he stands on his tiptoes and places a light peck onto your cheek. The crowd goes wild, and you blush, because you finally got the small man some-what over his fear.

You were going to cure all of it. You take his hand and didn't let go until the party ended.

"Watashi no ai, go kyōryoku itadaki arigatōgozaimasu."

**Yay! Another chapter written at **_**5 am**_** because that's how much I love you! It was really hard to write this, cuz Japan doesn't really give me much to work with but I think I did a rather good job! I don't know why I don't just finish one story and move on to the next, cuz right now I'm in the middle of like three. :P oh well, what can you do? Don't know when but the Nordics **_**will**_** be making an appearance, hopefully within the next few chapters. Review who you want picked and I'll sop badgering you about it!**

**Translation:**

**Japanese!**

Watashi no ai, go kyōryoku itadaki arigatōgozaimasu. (Thank you for helping, my love)


	10. The Feather

You reach your hand into the bag and pull out a long, brown feather. You run your finger along the edge, marveling at how soft it is. America, who had walked away to get some food, came back and dropped what he was holding.

"Hey! That's mine!" Without bothering to pick up his mess, he pulls you into the closet and shuts the door. Someone on the others side raps their knuckle on the door.

"You only have 7 minutes!" and locks to door. You couldn't see anything past your nose, and the American locked in the closet with you wasn't very talkative at the moment. You weren't sure how this would turn out. Lately, you've noticed he has a sweet layer under his hero exterior, and you desperately wanted to get to know that part of America better, but were to shy to do anything about it.

"H-hey, America?" you hear a snort, like he was breaking out of a deep though. Curious, you take a step closer but were stopped by large, warm hands wrapping themselves around your hips. He murmured into your ear in a very proactive way.

"I just can't believe my luck. Who would have guessed that you would be the one to pull my item." His breath tickles your ear and brushes your hair around. A shiver runs down your spine as you strain to retain your composure, but its falling fast. You had two options. 1) let him continue what he's doing and let him think you're not interested or 2) take initiative and show his you mean business. While half your mind ponders your decision, the other half tries to reason why he's acting this way, so quite and romantic.

This isn't the man you fell so deeply in love with. What happened to his loud mouth and hero-complex? You must have frozen, because he hesitated and pulled away. Again, his actions were opposite of his normal behavior. Without another word he retreats farther away. He stood there, whispering to himself, as if arguing with his subconscious or something.

"Goddammit! Why did I do that? I've been working so hard to…uggg I ruined everything!" You can hear the strain in his voice, and it kicks in some maternal instincts deep within you. Without waiting for him to stop mentally beating himself up, you reach over and collect him in your arms.

The American spluttered and tried to pull away, but not to hard. You simply shake your head and hold him tighter, burying your face into his ever present bomber jacket, which smells like fries, fire-works and something you can't quite place. He stands there, apparently contemplating what to do next. In your head, you were counting how much time you had left before the door would be thrown open, and according to your countdown, you had a little under five minutes left.

"Why are you acting this way?" those six little words seemed to have a huge impact on the nation, who looked down into your eyes with shock. You meet his gaze, expecting answers.

"W-what way? The H-hero always acts like this!" his answer was obviously faked, and you weren't in the mood to be lied to. Without hesitation, you grab the collar of his bomber and pull his lips down to meet yours. When he tries to pull away, you use the strength of your entire nation to keep him in place. He finally understands that there's no escape and leans in for a deeper embrace.

When you finally break, both of you were dizzy from lack of oxygen.

"Now, why did you lie to me?" your question made him do a double take and flush darker than he already was. You could tell he was getting ready to lie again, and that really ticked you off. Without a warning, you pin the free nation against the wall and whisper into his ear.

"I don't want lies, Alfred. I want you to be truthful with me. I've always been truthful with you, even if you didn't want to see it." This confession seemed to spark a memory deep in his blonde mind. It was many years ago, around WW2.

_"Alfred, please let me help you!" your voice rings loud with desperation. You cling to his jacket sleeve and try to get him to change his mind._

_ "No. I can't get you involved. It's too dangerous for someone like you." His words stung, but you were persistent._

_ "I don't care! I want to be there for you! I want to protect you. Even a hero needs a sidekick!" Your words hit a chord deep in the American nation, and you could see it ring true in his crystal clear eyes. He shakes his head sadly and pats your head._

_ "Your adorable, you know that?" and proceeded to walk out the doors and catch his cab._

"You…." He seems to finally understand what you meant all those years ago, and what you mean standing in front of him right now. Without another question, he swoops down and envelopes you in a kiss so warm you couldn't think a single coherent thought.

The hero seems to know exactly what he was doing, and made sure you knew that you were under his control, if only for this short time. A few times he broke away, and it seemed he was trying to say something, but gave up and took your breath away again. Finally, he must have gotten his thoughts together, broke away and finally spoke what was on his mind.

"After I broke away from England, I thought I'd never find someone to hold close again. My first meeting as an independent nation was horrible. I was all alone; England wouldn't even look at me. They got worse and worse until one day, a beautiful new nation walked through the doors and took my breath away. I finally had something to look forward to. I made myself what I thought she would want, tried to woo her. Made myself strong and loud to catch her eye. She tried to help, but I was terrified for her. She was my light, my joy. I couldn't let anything happen to this creation of heaven, sent to help me live again," your breath catches in your throat. You can he's talking about you, and your heart soars, "Without you, I don't know what I would have done. I don't know if I'd even still be here. When ever I hear someone call me fat, or stupid, I just want to end it. When I hear the other's whispering behind my back about my economy and even right to my face about how disgusting I am, I don't know how long I can deal with it, but there's one thing always stops me. You. You always stop me from pulling the trigger and help me put down the knife. Thank you. T-thank you so much." His sky blue eyes began to over flow and you can tell how much it took for him to confess everything to you.

You let him cry for a few moments before brushing away his bitter tears with a delicate hand. Standing on your tiptoes, you gently kiss each of his flushed cheeks before landing your lips on his still trembling ones. You refused to back down until his shaking stopped, and his arms snaked around your hips.

The door flew open and England stood there, a smirk evident on his face, but as soon as he saw America's expression, he became humble and stepped out of the way without a word. Good. You take the larger man's hand in your and lead him out of the small room that had changed your life. Before anyone could say anything, you give his hand a squeeze.

"I love you, you moronic Hero. I'll always be your sidekick." You finally realize what that third thing was. It was Fries, fireworks….and _home._

**O-oh gosh, what did I just write? WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME!? I guess reading that many angsty fan fictions can really F up your mental state….I literally have about 15-20 more nations lined up, along with three other stories I desperately need to update, two of which I've neglected for so long everyone's probably forgotten about them **** But….you guys should check out my Harry Potter crossover (Why You Don't Want a Howler) and my first Prucan fic (The Color or Nothing) but always remember! I love all of you, and that's not just sarcasm to make you think I care, cuz I actually do!**


	11. The Clip

**W-what is this?! An….**_**update?! **_**Impossible! But yes! Yes it is and update! Summer started and that means more free time! And I realize I was being a terrible person for not writing…gomen…. Hopefully now that I'm back at it updates will be more frequent, but I'm lazy. So very, very lazy. This has actually be sitting, half finished, in my folder.**

You reach your hand into the bag and it touches something cold and solid. Curious, you pull out a small metal cross hairpin. You knew exactly who it belonged to. You could feel your face heat up and your chest started hurting from the pressure building in it. A gloved hand reached over your shoulder and pluck the clip from your fingers. Turning, you saw the personification of Norway tucking his bangs back with the clip in question with nimble fingers.

"So," his voice drifted to your ear, "We're forced to stand in a locked closet for seven minutes?" the lack of emotion in his tone hurt. Did he not like you enough to spend seven measly minutes? Suddenly, Alfred had your hand in his, Lukas's in his other, and dragged you both to the closet. You could see the uninterested look in his violet eyes and scowled. Why was he so cold? Frustrated, you crossed your arms and let out a sigh. You can't be mad at him. He can't help if he's cold and distant. Sometimes it's a relief to be in his calming, if not frigid, presence after dealing with the other nations all day.

The door closed and locked, like the seal on a poorly made contract. Standing next to each other, you sneak a glance in his direction, just too quickly turn back. His chilling eyes were studying your face in a quite unnerving matter. Subconsciously, you both take a step to the side. You can feel the tension in the air, as if three white dots were spelling out the awkward in the small room.

**.**

** .**

** .**

"I don't hate you, you know." His soft, but not quite, voice startles you from your thoughts, "I just have…trouble…expressing my emotions. Especially towards other people. So…don't think I don't like you. Because I have come to care for you greatly." He seems very uncomfortable, and you resist the urge to wrap your arms around him.

He coughs and shuffles his feet, face still impassive. Though it was dark, you could just barely make out a faint blush on his pale, prominent cheeks as he turns his face away from you. You try to stay as quite as the Nordic nation next to you, but a smile keeps pushing its way to your glossed lips and a quick, quiet, yet audible giggle slips through that smile. His blush deepened as your laughter grew louder.

"W-why are you laughing? He didn't raise his tone, but you can hear the distress and embarrassment lacing his words. You continue to laugh, not bothering to cover it up anymore. Suddenly, you begin laughing so hard that you snort, loudly, and in embarrassment you cover your face. The silence dragged out for only a few moments before you hear a wonderful, magical, musical sound.

Norway stood next to you, laughing his head off, his face now red with lack of breath rather than embarrassment. You can't hold it in. Soon, you were both rolling on the floor laughing hysterically. The more you laughed the more you snorted, causing you both to laugh harder. Tears rolling down your face, you don't recall ever laughing this much in your life. You hear a strange noise come from the male nation within touching distance and looked over to see him covering his mouth with his hands, a shocked look on his face.

"D-did you just…?" you let the question hang because you both knew the answer to it. Yes. Norway, the cold, emotionless nation, just snorted. A new fit of mirth took you over and you collapse into his lap. Tears were running so thick you couldn't see straight and you were beginning to become light headed. How did a simple seven minutes in heaven game turn into this?

When the seven minutes were up and Alfred opened the door, everyone was greeted by the sight of two fully grown nations rolling on the floor, laughing like children. You helped him up, both wiping tears from your eyes. Before he walked through the door, you grabbed his sleeve.

"Hey, Lukas? I care for you as well." You say quietly, placing a quick peck to his red cheek before heading out into the crowd. He stands there for another moment, hand pressed to his cheek. Though his face had slipped into his usual mask, you could still hear him whisper.

"Vel takk godhet og en av oss kan være uttrykksfullt." And with a shake of his head, you both headed off into the crowed, hand in hand.

**Lookie here! A chapter that didn't involve angst, blood or emotional breakdowns? Well well well starlight! You've really outdone yourself this time! I already have the next chapter started! And it's one that many, many, many people have requested!**

**Translation: Norwegian~~**

Vel takk godhet og en av oss kan være uttrykksfullt. ~ Well thank goodness one of us can be expressive.

**See everyone later! **

**~*~*~*~Starlight1395~*~*~*~**


	12. The Tomato Paste

You cautiously place your hand into the bag, looking warily into Alfred's face, when your hand touches something wet and slimy. In a flash, you yank your hand out, only to see it covered in a mess of gushy red. Feeling slightly ill, you can only stare at the gore covering your hand, all the way up to your wrist. Before you could begin to _flip shit, _a strong, calloused hand shot out and grasped yours in its warm embrace. Still unsure of what it was, you closed your eyes until you felt a strange sensation tickling your fingers. Opening your eyes, you see one very handsome, very seductive Antonio licking the red off of your hand tongue moving expertly in between the appendages. He was wearing an old leather jacket, unlike most of the finely tailored men here, which happened to be your favorite jacket of all time.

You can feel your face turn fifty shades of red as his warm pink tongues darts about. Suddenly he turns red as his tomato and shoots away from you. He began laughing lightly and rubbing the back of his head, not looking you in the eyes.

"Lo siento mucho precioso! I don't know what came over me! I just…really like tomatoes, and I couldn't bear to see such a ripe fruit go to waste! Surely you understand, mi Hermosa luz!" You just smile, basking in the pet names that spill every time he addresses you. You laugh yourself, just a bit, when you see how Tonio was using the same hand motions that Lovino uses. Must have rubbed off during their time together.

You feel a pang in your chest when you think of the cheery Spaniard with the grumpy Italian. Lovino was sweet in his own way, but you wish that you could spend more one-on-one time with merrily tanned man. You love the way his smile would light up the conference room, even after a depressing discussion. How his laugh was so infectious he got you to laugh after you lost your first war, when you were hurting and dying on the inside. Even how his hugs seemed to radiate warmth from the center of his being.

You realize that Antonio had been apologizing this whole time, so you gently grasp his wrist and pull his close. With a friendly pat on the shoulder, telling him that it was okay and not to worry, Alfred guided you to the closet that was conveniently placed not three yards from you. Inside the closet was spacious, for a closet, yet still quite cramped for two full grown people to fit comfortably without touching. As the door closes you can hear an overbearing American accent taunting a particular south Italian. The click of the lock echoed though the small rooms, making your heart try to inch away but bump into a wall. You squeak, mostly in surprise, and Tonio heard.

"¿Estás bien? Are you alright?" Tonio's voice was wavering, with worry? Or laughter? Sure, you guess the sound you made was funny, in a way, but it still hurts to think of Tonio, _your_ Tonio, laughing at you.

"I'm fine," it came out as a whisper, "Just ran into a wall. That's all." You let out a nervous giggle and hope that he doesn't notice the half-lie. Through the dim light coming from the cracks by the door, you can see his curly chestnut hair tilt along with his head in a confused manor. A hesitant hand is placed on your shoulder, chilly from the small straps.

"There's no need to lie, chika. It's okay." A soothing voice drifted to your ears, almost forcing you to release the tension in your shoulder. A breath of relief is let out, which you didn't even know you were holding. His embrace was warm and inviting, making you feel right at home with the Spanish country.

"I miss the time we used to spend together. Before Lovino came into your care we would spend so much time together but now I only ever see you at the conferences. I…I wish things could go back to the way they were, even if it was just for a little bit." You can feel tears stinging your eyes, but a lamentful smile suppressed them. You can't help but feel a little guilty, thinking so badly of Romano, but you really do long for simpler times.

"I'm sorry chika. I didn't mean to ignore you. I was just wrapped up in work and raising a child isn't that easy, especially for someone like me." He pulls you close and places his chin on your head, sighing wistfully. You laugh little under your breath at his tone

"I never blamed you Tonio," you try to reason with him; "It was nobody's fault really, just me being jealous." You lean back a little, placing your weight against his chest. You shiver again, cursing your lack of sleeves, and he takes notice. You feel something warm and heavy drop over your shoulders. Looking back, you see that he had taken off his jacket and draped it over you. You grab one corner of it and pull it farther across your chest, basking in the warmth that Tonio's body had created. You smile and turn to face him. Antonio places his hands on your hips, drawing you closer to his own body, and you heave a content sigh.

"Thank you Tonio." You whisper into his neck, loving the feel of him being so close. You feel his rumbling chest as he giggled as only he can.

"No problema." He leaned farther down and captured your lips with his. The kiss was brief, and sweet, but absolutely and completely perfect. You never could have wanted anything different. Before you could react, the door was thrown open and the two of you fell in a heap at the feet of a grinning American.

"Seems as though you two had fun!" His loud voice rang over the party, making those closest to us look with interest. You quickly stand up and brush off your dress, not noticing that the jacket had fallen off your slight frame until you feel its familiar weight placed back where it was. He smiled at you, and you can feel your face flush just a little.

"Realmente eres muy hermosa, mi amor. Y usted puede guardar la chaqueta." With a wink he leads you out into the dance floor and refused to let go for the rest of the night.

**Yet another story and no angst!? Why can I not write something sweet for the life of me when I'm happy, but when my depression gets out of hand I can't write anything sad? I really an fucked up aren't I? **

**Well so far we've had Germany, Russia, Prussia, England, France, Romano Canada. Japan, America, Norway adn now Spain. I have the biggest twist but that can't happen until the last few chapters, though I might just post them now and have it go back to normal after.**

**Trasnlation: **"Realmente eres muy hermosa, mi amor. Y usted puede guardar la chaqueta."~You really are beautiful, my love. And you can keep the jacket.

**Any ideas? I'll list the nations already lined up, and you can review with your own ideas!**

**~China* ~Egypt****

**~Austria ~Turkey****

**~Stwitzerland ~Hong Kong****

**~Latvia ~South Korea****

**~Sweden ~Australia****

**~Denmark ~Iceland**

**~Finland ~Netherlands ****

**~Poland ~Lithuania***

**~Estonia* ~Rome**

**~Germania **

***Countries with starsd nxt to them mean I need A LOT OF HELP because I know little to nothing about them!**

**:O) HoPe YoU dIn'T mInD tHe CrApPy EnDiNg! pLeAsE eNjOy A cOmPlImEnToRy BoTtLe Of FayGo BeCaUsE i LoVe YoU aLl.**

**With many, many, many pasta bowls of love**

**~*~*~*~*~*~Starlight~*~*~*~*~*~**


	13. The Plant Sprig

**Okay so I'm kicking my lazy ass into gear and trying to get these typed, because I love you. Yes, you sitting in front on your computer/phone. A very excited guest asked for this so I'm here to deliver the new chapter!**

**Guest~ No! Actually I'm from Jersey, not Michigan. My local ShopRite sells faygo in plastic bottles, but only in diet ;o; the ginger ale is pretty good though.**

**MisstiqueRose~ I'm glad you like it! Mattie is my favorite as well. I'll try to work on Australia, but I don't know much about his character so it might seem a little strange or out of character…sorry! But I'll attempt it!**

You reach your hand into the bag, your eyes not leaving the sky blue ones belonging to the nation holding said fast food bag. Wanting to get this over with, you grab the first thing that you touch. As you pull it out, a faint aroma surrounds you. The plant stem had several green leaves and a few purple flowers. Curious, you bring the plant to your nose. The scent tickles you but the small reminds you of the home you stayed in before becoming your own nation.

You can remember the sunlight and the freshly baked goods that always seemed to brighten up the house. But no matter how familiar the plant seemed, you just couldn't place a name to it. Suddenly, a small, cold nose nudges your hand. Sitting on the table next to you is a small black and white cat, trying to eat the leaves. A cute little meow escapes its mouth and you finally connect the pieces.

This plant was what you grew in your window box to treat the local cats with. Catnip! You begin to wonder why someone would put catnip into the bag when something lands on your shoulder. Startled, you flinch away, only to have to dive to keep the sleeping nation that had mistaken your shoulder for a pillow from falling to the ground. You weren't all the surprised to see that it was Greece, for the cat obsessed nation was always sleeping. During meeting, during meals, during movies and parties.

"Hey! Wake up!" You whisper in his ear, as not to frighten him awake. For some reason, as long as you can remember, you've have a peculiar skill of waking the brunette nation up. He languidly blinked his eyes open, looking around for a moment before letting his eyes rest on you. A dreamy smile graced his features as he placed a hand on your cheek.

"Oh…good morning. Did you pick my catnip? I though I smelt something pretty, but it was just you." He sat up and collected the cat from the table into his arms, coddling it like a child. It was very endearing, though you wish he would hold you like that. Alfred, of course, butted in, loudly.

"Okay dudes! You guys have seven minutes to be locked in a closet together!" Greece looked up at the American, who was a measure taller than himself, blinking tiredly. Then his gaze swept the rest of the room before letting his eyes rest on a spot in the back of the room. Before you, America and yourself, could say anything, Greece grabs your wrist and pulls you from the crowed to the back of the room where a red and gold chaise lounge couch tucked away from prying eyes.

You want to pull your arm away and demand to know what he's doing, but the warmth from around your wrist was very inviting, and he smells like home, or catnip, same thing. He draws you closer and stops in front of it, wrapping his arms around your waist. Without a word, he lies down with you still in his arms and gets comfortable. You turn so your back was facing the rest of the party and bury your head into his chest. A content sigh escapes both your lips at the same time.

"Um…dudes? The closet is in that direction," Alfred tried to gain your attention, but you're too far gone to notice. You two stay like that, wrapped in each other's arms, not saying anything for several hours. There was nothing to say because everything was perfect the way it was. There was not actual need to express how you felt for each other for it was all said through hugs and smiles.

You watch the sleeping face of your new love, and you can't help but think how much he resembles a cat. Smiling, you place a kiss on his nose, which he twitches in his sleep. Maybe it wasn't a waste coming to this party.

**Wanted to shake things up a little for this….it was my first time ever writing for Greece, so it might not be perfect. Apparently he's philosophical and serious, yet calm and chill. I went with the chill part! I know it's not much, but I can't use all my ideas in one chapter! (Actually I have no ideas so please help my telling me what you want!)**

**Check out my other story, Why You Don't Want a Howler! It's a Hetalia, Harry Potter crossover, and it's starting to get good! I'm working on a huge amount of new characters (for me writing that is) in this crossover, so read it and tell me how accurate I was!**

**With lots of love~**

**~*~*~*~*~*~Starlight~*~*~*~*~*  
**


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